Darkness
by Rogue Pryde
Summary: Kohaku's internal struggle as he fights against Naraku's control, winning at a terrible cost. Songfic to Hang On by Seether. Rating for pure angst. Probably my darkest fic, and that's saying something.


Hey y'all! I'm telling myself this isn't yet another story since it's only a one-shot. Yes, it's angsty, but what am I known for? Yeah, I thought so. So I don't want to hear any complaints about how depressing I am (Yes, actually I do, I love it when someone thinks I'm morbid, my friends can attest to that, so I'm only saying not to because I wanted a longer AN) This is to the song Hang On by Seether. It's in the movie Daredevil, and I LOVE it!

For the best effect, listen to the song while reading this fic. Trust me, it's worth it.

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It was sick.

The way Naraku toyed with his victims was sick. He taunted them with mind games, clouding the mind until it no longer knew it was functioning, much less what actions were being done at it's behest. Causing pain was like a drug, and Naraku had become so addicted nothing could quench his hunger. He was insatiable.

Like all the other pawns within Naraku's grasp, _he_ had come to welcome the fog that settled over the mind. It was the only relief he received from the nightmare drowning him. It was a relief to destroy villages with a weapon he didn't even know was in his hand. It was a relief to find the last remaining survivors with unseeing eyes. It was a relief to kill with hands that didn't feel the heat of innocent blood.

Well now I found myself

But Naraku was sick. And once the deed was done, the fog lifted, leaving his mind as clear as it had been before the hanyou had entered his life. There was nothing to hinder the implications of the blood he could now see on his hands. Nothing blinded him to the carnage that lay at his feet, the faces he knew from childhood. Nothing numbed the pain from the icy grip clutching at what had once been his heart.

It was sick.

Against his will his mind raced, methodically filling his missing memory. It came to him in flashes. His childhood best friend staring at him in mute horror as he sliced his throat with steady hands. 

The woman who had raised him in his mother's stead screaming until her throat refused any more abuse. She had died with her mouth open, still trying to scream his name. 

There were others too, the boy who had taught him to throw a knife, killed by a single blow to the head. 

The girl, who had left flowers by his door, informing him that they would marry as soon as she was old enough, hadn't even been able to scream. He had descended upon her swiftly, intending to cut her down before she even saw him. But at the last possible instant, she turned. She opened her mouth to speak, but was dead long before any sound could have been uttered. 

What haunted him now was the spark of recognition that had filled her eyes. There was no trace of fear, no horror, no hatred. That spark held a warmth and love that remained on her lifeless corpse. And now, without the fog to blind him, he knew her last thoughts had been one's of hope, hope that he had come to see _her. _

Her arms were outstretched, even in death, inviting him to enter her swiftly fading warm embrace.

****

  
Wish I was someone else

It was a long time before he could bring himself breath again after recognizing her face. Longer still for him to feel the wetness that had somehow covered his cheeks, falling hard and swift to the ground, staining it with a remorse he had no right to feel.

His feet moved of their own accord, leading him away from the building that had once served as his home. Where they would take him, he didn't know, but he recognized more than one face frozen in death, their confused terror still visible, their horror etching itself into his mind.

Eventually he stopped, because he was meant to witness more atrocities or because he had grown too weary to move, he wasn't sure. His now open eyes traveled along the familiar woodwork, not slowing to acknowledge the dark red that had stained the boards he had helped put up. Inside were the people who had taught him everything he knew about fighting. They had accepted him as one of their own, pushing him to be the very best. They were training both him and his sister to destroy the youkai that were destroying their world.

They had succeeded. He had somehow become the best, more skilled than even they had dared dream. None of them had stood a chance against him. But they had failed too. A few had actually recognized him for the pawn he was before death claimed them. Even now, he couldn't stand to see the pity that remained vivid on their faces.

  
My hands are stained with love

He reached out to touch one, remembering almost fondly the way she had scolded him for lazing about. At the sudden flash of red he jerked his hand back, extending it again a moment later to view the dark liquid that coated his now shaking hands. The smell, already strong, began to overwhelm him. Gasping for breath, he stumbled out of the house that had welcomed him not so long ago. He placed a hand against his chest, feeling the blood of all those he had known, all those he had trusted him, soak through his shirt to stain his chest.

And than he ran. He didn't know for how long, but he didn't stop until long after his lungs had begun burning for air and his muscles screamed in agony. The pain he self-inflicted seemed pathetic in comparison to the genocide that same body had committed only moments before.

  
Wish I could take it away

He collapsed on the ground, his shaking legs unable to bear him any longer. His body retched, vomit gurgling out of him with a ferocity that wrenched his entire body. He heaved against the ground until nothing more could escape him but shuddering breaths. 

As if from a distance, he watched his hands shake, harder and harder, not stopping until that cold, chilling fog, drifted into his mind again, coating everything with the bliss of ignorance. Slowly, everything that was him faded into oblivion, until he could see nothing past the fog. With steady hands, he lifted himself off the ground and stood, feeling his master's unspoken summons.

  
I hid behind the shell

His body moved swiftly, covering enough ground that it took less than a day to complete a journey that would have taken a lesser human nearly a week. Naraku's voice didn't penetrate the fog but his body recognized the command for what it was and stood from it's kneeling position.

Naraku laughed that haunting empty laugh that seemed to echo in the darkest reaches of his pathetically human mind. He retreated deeper into the fog, wrapping it around himself so tight he lost all consciousness of who he was. 

  
In time the pain will melt

The fog ruled him. For weeks, months, there was nothing but the fog. The gray haze surrounded him, smothering him at times, even saving him, ripping him away from memories of a love to painful to bear. Sometimes he wasn't sure it was only memories that caused her voice to pierce through the fog, breaking away the dark like a stream of sunshine only to be cut off sharply by his own defenses. If he didn't see her, didn't hear her, he could lose himself in the fog and tell himself she wasn't real.

Night was the only time he was completely forsaken by the fog. His dreams were terrifyingly real, no dark mist shrouding the vividness of their horrors. Each night he saw with frightening clarity the deaths he had caused. Sometimes they were new faces, people he had never met before, kids even. Some were barely old enough to read or write, yet they had tried to stand up to him, defend their home from him.

  
My hands are stained with love

Watching families like that die, seeing mother's sacrifice themselves for children, only to see their offspring slaughtered seconds before death claimed them, hearing a father scream obscenities until he was hoarse, refusing to show cowardice in front of the people he wanted so valiantly to protect, such images hurt almost as bad as the memories he had of his own family.

These families had loved each other. And it was only at night that he could give their memories a fraction of what they deserved. His waking self didn't feel the wetness on his cheeks, but there was always that moment right before the fog took over that he still felt human. Pathetically, weakly, miserably, hauntingly human. 

  
Wish I could fake it

At first, Naraku had watched him carefully, always wary for the least sign of rebellion. But after a while, he seemed to realize that the fog was enough to stop him. It was like a drug, calling to him in those brief moments of sanity, tempting him with an oblivion in which no pain or self-hatred need be felt.

In that place, he could almost pretend. In that place, he wasn't the monster his waking self had become.

****

  


  
I gave my life away

He wasn't sure how old he was anymore. Years had passed, of that he was sure. Why else would his eyes look so old? He had been young, a long time ago. Maybe only a few months ago, by the standards of the world, but in his mind, it had been a lifetime ago.

He had been thirteen when Naraku entered his life. He was thirteen the day he destroyed his village. He was still thirteen when he had been ordered to murder whole families of innocent people. He was probably thirteen now, if one was to go by days lived. But his soul had aged so much in the past few months . . . He hadn't been thirteen in years.

  
There's nothing left to say

The fog swallowed him again, as Naraku dealt another order. His voice was harder now, more full of venom than it had been before, if that was possible. His mind registered the fact, but he didn't resist when the fog tore the observation away from him fiercely. He wasn't even aware of his footsteps following Kagura and Kanna out of the room. The fog prevented him from even noticing Naraku leading them, something that had never happened before.

  
I gave my life away

Dully, he felt his steps quicken. Wherever they were going, they were nearly there. Voices up ahead, but the fog quickly drowned them out before he could hear what they were saying, or who was speaking. Naraku's voice called out, mocking the recipient.

The fog swirled harder now, stronger than ever before. He tried to struggle, but physically choked on it as it resisted his defiance. In defeat, he let it take over, barely noticing his stature change from calm to intimidating. His blade was in the air, poised for an attack.

  
You take it in your way

Naraku's voice broke through the fog, as it always did in battles like these, one's where the enemy was someone truly important. The Shikon fragment in his back pulsed with a morbid anticipation for the inevitable bloodshed. His heartbeat quickened.

The fog was lessening. His movements slowed a fraction in confusion. It was in the midst of battle, if anything the fog should have gotten stronger. His movements were still wholly Naraku's will but suddenly his ears could hear the screams of his adversary's, his hands felt the cool handle of his weapon, now moist with sweat, and he saw the faces of those he was meant to kill with eyes too dead to cry the tears his soul wept. 

****

  
  
You take it in your way

He could have ignored it if it had just been the hanyou, the white haired dog demon that had enough anger in him he could lie to himself and say it was justice. Even the priest would have been bearable, an adversary almost worthy of a fight. But there was a human girl with barely budding Miko powers, and a little Kitsune terrified of his surroundings. Killing them would have been nothing less than slaughter. He didn't know why it bothered him now, after he had done it so many times. But at least before he'd been lost, somewhere in the fog. Now, now he saw each of his actions for what they were. He was powerless to stop his hands as they gripped his weapon in anticipation. Now he would feel their blood.

But than he caught sight of his last opponent. He hadn't seen her up until that moment, and he wondered if that hadn't been Naraku's plan all along. Gripping her own weapon in his familiar stance, he watched the owner of the voice that haunted his dreams more often than any other.

"Sango!"

He didn't speak the word, but his throat was sore as if he had screamed it. She looked in his direction, and their eyes met. Determined courageous ones against his own empty dead ones.

****

  
  
My selfish enemy

__

Naraku! He cursed in his mind, raging against the being that had brought this on him. Hating him for controlling him, for using him, and almost as passionately, for taking away the fog when he needed it most.

He heard the laugh, the chilling one that sent shivers down his spine even when wrapped in the fog, and felt his muscles tighten. His body strode purposefully forward even as his mind screamed in absolute desperation.

****

  
Still has the best of me

The Shikon in his back grew brighter, and he heard the Miko warn the others. His sister didn't even acknowledge that she'd heard her friend. Her eyes were only for him.

"Kohaku." She breathed his name, and he could see the desolation in her eyes, the terrible knowledge that it wasn't the brother she loved inhabiting the body that was so horrifyingly familiar. He slid into a defensive stance, and she did the same.

  
Empty and feeling numb

He made the first move, like he knew he would. She wouldn't attack him unless she had to, even after all he'd done. He wished she would. Now, without the fog in which to seek refuge, he wished he was just a little bit slower and she just a little faster, anything to cause her weapon to strike where it kept missing.

He didn't want to see the pain that was in her eyes every time she made herself swing in his direction. Her movements weren't as fluid as they could be and he nearly hated her for prolonging his life. 

  
Wish I could take it away

He knew from past encounters that his eyes didn't betray the self-hatred he felt they didn't show any part of him. He couldn't understand why his sister refused to kill him, even when the soulless shell he had once inhabited committed such horrible atrocities. 

The pain at fighting him, however reluctantly, was evident in her eyes. Her hands were shaking, something they never did. She struck again, and he blocked easily. 

Behind them, the battle raged.

  
I can't control the need

The Shikon fragment in his back pulsed brighter, filling his veins with unimaginable power. He lashed out viciously and she parried, but the force of his blow drove her to her knees. He raised his weapon to attack again, his mind screaming at him to stop, but his body refused to listen. His limbs didn't even hesitate.

Somehow, she managed to block him a second time, and he saw her wince at the pain that must have surged through her arm. At least it was her left one. If it had been her stronger arm the battle would have already been lost, for both of them.

  
To weak to not concede

He couldn't describe the sensation that came from watching his hands grip his weapon with such a deadly determination. No matter how hard he tried, no matter how much he raged against whatever it was that had ripped his control from him, his body still refused to listen to his commands. If it had been only him in his body, he knew he would be weeping openly. As it was, he felt his lips twist into a cruel smirk at his sister's predicament.

"You're dead."

  
Wish I was deaf and dumb

She started at his words, clearly surprised. Hurt flashed in her eyes, as if she could forgive him for killing her but not for mocking her in her last moments. His voice had been so cold, so uncaring. If he could shudder, he would have.

"Not yet." She bit her lip so hard it drew blood, and somehow managed to struggle to her feet. Her stance should have been shaky, but something had given her the strength to stand straight. She met his eyes, and in their luminous dark depths, he could see all of her that had made him love her.

Again, his lips formed that vicious smile. He hated himself more at that moment than he ever had before. She would die, there was no doubt of that, and she would never know just how much he respected her, how much he loved her.

Her voice echoing in his mind, he lashed out again at the thing controlling him. Resistance was futile, that he already knew, but as long as his sister fought, so would he.

  
Wish I could fake it

Even as he fought against the jewel and Naraku's power, he struggled to push the memory of the words spoken so callously with his voice. If she died . . . if he killed her . . . those would be the last words she would ever hear from his lips.

Suddenly his body lurched forward slightly, caught off balance by a swift kick in the stomach. Neither he, nor the being inhabiting his body, had anticipated the attack, and he felt an odd sense of pride at his sister's will and cleverness.

  
  
I gave my life away

His hands tightened on his weapon and he turned faster than his body had ever moved under his control. With a gasp she flew backwards, and as if from a distance, he heard the dull thud as her body hit some immovable object.

It didn't take more than a few moments for him to reach her side. He raged at the blood on her head, spilling into her dark hair. She stood up as soon as she saw him, sliding into yet another one of her perfectly memorized defensive stances. His position matched hers and they prepared to face off again.

  
There's nothing left to say

She had always disliked the sight of her own blood. He could remember playing games with her and the other kids when they were younger, and while she was perfectly capable of tending to his own cuts and scratches, she tended to panic slightly when it was her blood staining the ground.

She'd gotten over it of course. You couldn't be a demon exterminator and be afraid of your own blood. She had grown used to it, to the point where he had started to worry she didn't care. She fought so bravely, so fiercely, with no thought whatsoever to her own wellbeing. If he hadn't been so sure of her love for him he would have thought she didn't care enough to live. But she would never leave him. And he soon followed in her footsteps, learning the pride that had made her so willing to sacrifice her life.

  
I gave my life away

Looking at her now, ready to sacrifice herself yet again for a just and noble cause, made him want to fall to his knees and sob like the child he used to be. Instead, his body attacked her yet again. They had both been sacrificed. She would die tonight, by his own hand, and he had died years ago, only to reawaken in moments like these to provide Naraku with entertainment for his sadistic nature.

  
You take it in your way  


He could hear Naraku's voice clearly, echoing over the battlefield. His body immediately shifted, following his orders to bring their fight closer to the one he was conducting. Through his eyes, he watched the white haired hanyou fall to the ground, clutching at a wound in his side. The Miko screamed his name, and he wanted nothing more than to scream with her. Scream until he couldn't make another sound come out.

Instead, he continued fighting.

  
I gave my life away

Another thrust, which she dodged with more ease than should have been possible with her wound. Something was giving her the strength to go on living and he hated himself all the more with the knowledge that it was hope for him. 

Memories flashed through his mind, both of times with her and the battles he had fought. It disgusted him that his hands had been stained red more times than they were their original color. Staring at them now, he was surprised there wasn't any residue of color on them, as a permanent reminder of the sins he had committed for a monster.

  
There's nothing left to say

His arms were lifted over his head, swinging down in a swift, lethal blow, but somehow she had dodged, even managing to twist her body into a perfectly executed blow to the head. He staggered back, but quickly regained his balance.

Her body tensed in the familiar way it always did when proud of an achievement. Though she hated every move she had to make against him, there was still that primal pride. Her chin set in a determined line, she roughly tossed her head, flinging the bloodstained strands of her once elegant hair back over her shoulder, out of her vision.

  
I gave my life away

He attacked again, this time lower than before. She wasn't prepared for the stinging blow to her knees, and if she'd been a second slower she would have been crippled for life. She quickly retaliated with a thrust at his throat that he easily blocked.

She was panting slightly, something he hadn't noticed before. He was wearing her down. The realization filled him with such a despair he nearly gave up on his fight against the Shikon. But she slid into yet another familiar position and as his body mimicked her stance, he fought the battle in his mind with renewed vigor.

  
You take it in your way

His arms moved in a thrust towards her stomach, as if attempting to knock the air out of her long enough to finish her off. She blocked it, how, he wasn't sure.

The next move that followed was one he remembered clearly from childhood. He had never mastered it, and it had been her crowning moment among their friends. It had been the day they'd all realized she was meant for great things.

****

  
  
I can't pretend we're the same

But his body, with the fragment power behind it's actions, managed to not only block it, but mold it into a counter attack, striking her hard across the rib cage. She lurched, and for an instant he thought she was going to vomit.

But than her body was under her control again, and she twisted away from his follow up blow. Her movements were so familiar, and he hated his mind for giving away the secrets of her actions to the invader. His body continued to block her attacks perfectly, using the knowledge gained from his precious memories.

  
I can't pretend we're the same

Their eyes met again as she landed a few feet in front of him. Both had their weapons raised, poised to strike. Even under such circumstances, he couldn't help but notice how similarly their bodies moved. In perfect coordination they both leapt off the ground to attack, and the thrust was blocked efficiently, neither one gaining any points before landing again.

  
I can't pretend we're the same

They both whirled around, not hesitating before running towards each other. His hands lifted his weapon towards her face, and for one instant, he was terrified she wouldn't block it. He saw the horror on her face as she realized what his intention was. But at the last possible instant, her own weapon came up, effectively stopping his on it's lethal course.

"Sango!" He heard an unfamiliar voice echo the scream his mind raged. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the monk running towards them, staff outstretched in a warning manner.

She was distracted by his call. For an instant, she forgot about the battle, turning to warn the newcomer off. His body took advantage of the fact, pulling his arm back for the final blow.

****

  
  
Oh now I found myself

NO!!!!!! He raged against his body, he screamed, he howled in absolute and utter agony. And than, suddenly, he heard his own voice screaming, hoarse from disuse.

The blow still fell, barely slowed by a fraction, and still nearly dead on target. She fell forward.

  
Wish I was someone else

The Shikon flew out of his back, landing somewhere far behind him. Blood poured out of him profusely, leaking out of his body and onto the ground, mixing with the dark red life that escaped his sister in a rain of heat.

The priest reached them, instantly falling to Sango's side. His eyes searched her face for any sign of life. The tears that fell down his cheeks were answer enough for Kohaku.

  
My hands are stained with love

He backed away from the body, unable to look at the dark drops that were flecked across his fingers. His mouth opened and closed, trying to say her name, but his throat refused to work, with a terrible despair that was worse than when it was out of his control.

Tears ran down his cheeks, burning trails into his skin. He kept trying to back away, to run away, but he only managed a few more steps before he collapsed completely. Without the shard to sustain him, his life was slipping from him faster than he could have imagined.

  
Wish I could FAKE

If he had only been a second faster, if he could have been just a little stronger, she would have still lived. At that moment, he hated himself with more of a passion than even Naraku had extracted from him.

The monk pulled her motionless body closer to him, an act that Kohaku would have given anything to perform. But he had no right. His blood continued to spill around him, until his own dark trail nearly met hers.

****

  


  
I gave my life away

Somewhere in the distance, the battle still raged, but he didn't care anymore. All he could hear was the soft sobs racking the body of the priest. All he could see was the terrible paleness that had settled across her once warm features. 

All he could feel was the pressure of her flesh against his blade.

  
There's nothing left to say

__

"You're dead." The memory of his last words echoed in his mind, taunting him with their prophetic accuracy.

****

  
I gave my life away

His blood continued to pour out, and he found himself wishing it would finally reach an end so he could close his eyes. They stubbornly remained fixated on his sister's still face.

  
You take it in your way

The presence of the Shikon flashed in his mind, tempting him with the power to bring him back from death but he roughly shoved it away. If anything, he wanted to escape what was left of his life. For far too long had he continued to breathe within the confines of his nightmare.

****

  
  
I gave my life away

Eventually, the presence faded, leaving him completely alone. He was only seconds from death, and he found himself wishing for the comforting, binding fog . . . anything to drown what was left of his soul.

  
There's nothing left to say

Mercifully, his eyes finally closed, releasing him from the sight of her deathly pale face. His breath came in short ragged gasps, choking on the blood that surrounded him.

  
I gave my life away

__

"I'm not scared of the dark." His voice didn't shake, he didn't allow it too.

"Of course not." Her smile was reassuring, and slightly knowing in the annoying way that only an older sibling could manage. "I just don't want to be alone."

****

  
You take it in your way

__

He looked at her suspiciously. "Why not? You killed a demon today, same as me, you shouldn't be scared of the dark either.

Her eyes had looked old than, as if trapped in an unpleasant memory. "Sometimes . . ." She cleared her throat before trying again. "Sometimes it's okay to be scared."

****

  
  
You take it in your way 

__

He stared at her in confusion. "No it's not, Dad says that a demon exterminator-"

__

"Is brave in the face of danger." She interrupted him. "The dark isn't dangerous, not by itself."

****

You take it in your way

__

"Than why be scared of it?" He used the question to hide his actions of climbing in bed beside her. She smiled warmly at him, willingly sharing the blanket.

"It's like, nothing." Her voice was a whisper, gentle, but not gentle enough to stop the shivers from making their way down his spine. "The night seems to hold everything you're afraid of, and at the same time a terrible nothing that gnaws at you, daring you to prove it's inexistance."

You take it in your way

__

"What do you see when it's dark?" He couldn't resist asking, the question seemed to come from his mouth of it's own accord. She didn't look offended, but rather, almost sad.

"I don't see anything." Her voice was soft. "But sometimes I hear the screams of the demons we kill. I know they're monsters, but every time I win . . . If it's so just, than why does it always feel like murder?"

You take it in your way

Darkness claimed him, and in his final moments of life, he heard the last time she'd whispered his name.

__

Kohaku

No one cried for him.

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That was THE most depressing thing I have ever written. I might go over it again, revise it, and post it again later, because it's late now and I'm probably not thinking straight, but I really really love this! PLEASE review and let me know if you like it. I'm not telling you whether Sango was alive or not to whisper his name or if he only remembered it from before. If this gets enough review though, I'll write another follow up one shot.

Wow. That is kinda depressing, aint it?


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